


In the Garden

by KannaOphelia



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale POV, Aziraphale and Crowley love each other, Aziraphale has too many regrets about not going faster, Bittersweet, Cuddles, First Kiss, Garden of Eden, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Handholding, M/M, Saving the world with love, Second Chances, Strong Sexual References, Time Travelling Character Accidentally Ends Up in Past Self's Body, Time-Travelling to Stop the Apocalyse, temporary canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: Aziraphale's trip back to Earth sends him on an unexpected detour, to the Garden of Eden, and a first encounter with his own particular demon. A second chance. To do it all right this time. Protect the humans, stop the expulsion from the garden, and love Crowley the way he deserves.He can make it better this time. Make it right.Written for Past Imperfect, Future Unknown 2020-21.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 124
Collections: Past Imperfect Future Unknown 2020





	In the Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kameiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kameiko/gifts).



Aziraphale felt a surge of exultation, blasphemous though that might be, as his fingers brushed the world, the real world, made tiny in Heaven. His rebellion had been a long time coming, and there was a freedom, like wind rushing through his ears, at finally doing the worst. Casting aside the rules. Casting aside the need for approval. 

Now, how to do this? He needed to find a body. He needed to focus on the job at hand, on what was important. On the world, its beauty and ugliness. On humanity, full of evil and full of grace. On what was important...

Crowley. Eyes hidden by his shades and his heart out there pinned to his sleeve, his naked desperation, pleading with him to come with him. Crowley slinking away from the bandstand, fury and despair and terrible loneliness in the set of his thin shoulders. Crowley laughing, head thrown back, neck bared in the oldest gesture of submission in front of his oldest enemy. Crowley swaggering, knowing he was looking impressive and stylish and glorying in it, playing the action hero for _him_ , for Aziraphale. Crowley, sarcastic and irritable and unexpectedly, endlessly kind. Crowley with his inconvenient questions, speaking the guiltiest thoughts at the back of Aziraphale's mind. Crowley who was always there for him and who had, in turn, in deepest need, turned to him and trusted him, only to have Aziraphale turn away.

He shouldn't have believed Heaven was coming to save anyone, Aziraphale thought bitterly, as the wind whipped around him and the planet spun, looking for an entrance. Aziraphale should have taken his hand, damn the consequences, damn himself, run away with him. He should have taken Crowley's hand right back there in Eden, when he had been confused by the unshielded trust and affection in this strange demon's snake-like eyes, sworn that they would be together. Promised him their own side. How beautiful Crowley had been in Eden, when they were still figuring what it meant to be an angel and what it meant to be fallen, in this strange new world. Crowley hadn't learned to hide his wings and eyes, to skulk and lie, hadn't yet had Hell and Earth and Aziraphale sharpen his smiles. His robes had been shadow, but Crowley, Crowley with his thick red curls and golden eyes had glimmered like the sun.

Crowley... He needed to see Crowley again. The need rose over him, smothered his thoughts, until everything was longing, and the planet pulled him in.

* * *

Aziraphale came to Earth in a rush. He was in a garden, he realised. _The_ Garden, the second realisation following fast upon the first. How odd. He had assumed it had been locked away, but it had been here all along. Empty of humans, guarded... against what? Well, it made sense in a way to find himself here, he supposed. His duty to humans beginning and ending at the same place.

He looked down to see who he had possessed, holding out his hands to examine them. Shock shivered through him. He knew these hands, had looked down on them for six thousand years, had kept them neat and clean and cared-for. He knew the blood thrumming in the tracery of their veins, knew every pale hair, knew the patterns on the palm that had confounded human fortune tellers, to his delight. They had held delicious food and the tiny fingers of a baby, had wielded forks and quills and medicine but never weapons, never again weapons, not after the first War, not after giving away his flaming sword...

His sword hung heavy at his waist, and his wings spread pale and radiant behind him.

Before he could process the thought properly, there was a rustle among the trees, and Crowley stepped out before him. The demon was distracted, tasting an apple cautiously, not _the_ apple but an ordinary green fruit, because oh, all sensations had been new and astonishing back then, Aziraphale remembered. The wild curls blazed against Crowley black robes and wings. Aziraphale took a step forward, thought fleeing his head, leaving the terrible, overwhelming desire to press Crowley close, apologise, say all the thousand million things that had lingered unspoken on his tongue for millennia. 

Crowley flinched, raising his empty hand defensively. "Hey, hey. No need to go for the sword. Nice sword, by the way. Very, um, flamey. I'm just, you know, having a look around here. Taking a peek at Her new kids. No harm done. I'll get out of your way, angel."

It hurt. It hurt worse than losing his body, worse than any pain he had ever been through. It was all wrong. Crowley had been frustrated with him sometimes, angry, but never, ever afraid of him. Even on the first meeting on the Wall, Crowley had been a little awkward, but confident in his friendliness, confident that Aziraphale would mean him no harm, even enemies that they were. Hadn't treated him as a frightening stranger.

Because it hadn't been their first meeting. Not for Crowley. The thought seared into Aziraphale's brain. He couldn't actually change anything. This was not another chance. Everything he did now, had already been done. 

Unless. The hope was almost as painful as the rejection had been. He'd been good, hadn't he, as good as he knew how to be? Tried to follow Her will, save Her children. he had prayed to Her for help, and it had felt like She hadn't heard, had been intercepted by the Metatron, but didn't She hear and see everything? He had never been afraid of Her, except for that one terrible mistake when he lied to Her. Even now, he couldn't believe it was Her will to let Her favoured human children die in terror while her older children spilled each other's blood. The old doubt, that the terrible things, the plagues and drownings, had been Her misguided servants in Heaven and not the Almighty, came crashing to the surface, and he embraced it with conviction. She didn't want it all to end in blood and fire.

Perhaps She was giving him another chance, to get it right this time. Not hand the first weapon to the humans. Not reject the love that had been proferred freely to him.

Crowley--Crawly--was backing away, smiling placatingly, and it was unbearable to have his demon, his friend who circled and teased and protected him, as as if he was going to strike him down with the sword by his hip. Aziraphale took a shaking step forward. "Don't go, my dear."

Crawly paused in mid-step. "I'm not looking for trouble here."

"You _are_ trouble, but I won't harm you." The words tumbled out. "I won't _ever_ harm you, I will do what I can to keep you safe, just like you do me. You will be my dearest and best friend." Crawly's eyes were wide with astonishment, and he was clearly trying to judge what to do with this insane angel, whether to flee or fight. "I love you more than I could possibly say."

He'd said it. Just like that. Said it as if it was easy to say. Here in Eden, under Her direct eye, he'd said what had been crushed deep in his heart, let it unfold and explode, and it wasn't to _his_ Crowley, the one who drank and bickered and always came for him, but to this demon who knew nothing of him and saw him as a potentially dangerous adversary. But he couldn't help it, couldn't bear to see any Crowley look at him like a stranger, like an enemy.

"Wot?"

The way the question plopped into the air made him made to laugh hysterically, made him want to embrace the slender figure, made him want to cry. It was so very Crowley. "I'm sorry," Aziraphale said helplessly. "My dear, I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have blurted that out."

Crawly shrugged. The fear in his eyes was being replaced by something else. Interest. Intrigue. A touch of amusement. The expression was familiar and beloved Crowley, it was his Crowley after all, just without six millennia of the world as a patina. "Nah, don't apologise. Supposed to love everyone, weren't we? I was never very good at it myself. I guess you can tell by my fashionable new gear." He spread his hands down his robe, pretending to be self-deprecating, but with a slight hint of preening that clearly communicated that actually he thought black was more stylish in any case. Oh, _Crowley._

Aziraphale took another step forward, drawn as if by a magnet, and Crawly grinned. That familiar, toothy grin that transformed his sharp face, the quirked eyebrow. And then he offered his apple, the red-veined flesh dewed with juice. "Want a bite?"

Aziraphale leaned forward without taking the apple from his hand, and bit into it. It was sweet, and tart, oh, how had he forgotten what the apples in Eden tasted like? And he could hear the breath hissing in Crawly's throat, see the flaring of interest in Crawly's eyes as he chewed and let the taste explode into his mouth, as he swallowed and took it into himself. _This is the first time Crowley ever saw me eat and it was from his hand_ , he thought, and it was sweeter and more sour and thicker in his throat than the apple.

"I've been tempted into tasting an apple from the Serpent of Eden himself," he said, delighted at the irony despite himself/

"Wait. How did you know..."

Crawly's eyes were wide and frightened. For a moment Aziraphale felt guilt and anxiety tug at him. Had he just put the thought into Crawly's mind? Did this mean it was all, all of it, his own fault? And then he remembered Crawly on the Wall, worried and uncertain, fretting that it had been the right thing to do. And maybe it had. Maybe all of terrible, glorious humanity had stemmed from this choice.

"I know you're the Serpent, and I know what you're here for," he said gently. "It's all right. You are going to be my dearest friend." 

"Yeah, well. I don't know what your lot would have to say about that." Crawly shifted uneasily, sunlight sparkling rainbows in his long black wings, bare feet shuffling in the grass. "Or my lot, really. Not so keen on angels, after the whole casting down in the pit thing. Michael throws hard."

"Probably best not to let them know," Aziraphale said gently, smiling despite himself. "It's quite ineffable."

"Yeah. Probably." Crawly was grinning again. None of the strain of the last eleven years, just a flashing of joy. "Not much use being a demon if I can't rebel a bit. Having an enemy as a friend, that's got to be wrong, right?"

"Teaching a demon about friendship and love, that has to be the right thing." The guilt twinged at that, and he answered, honestly, "Only I think you have more to teach me. I have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"Think you're going pretty fast now." Crawly wandered over to a log, stretched his long limbs out in a familiar motion, spread his wings behind him in a motion that Aziraphale had thought he had forgotten. And then he touched it beside him, invitingly, with none of the plausible excuses and denials and caution they had become used to, and Aziraphale joined him, accepting the apple from his hand. Aziraphale had never tasted anything so sweet, but only minutes before... thousands of years in the future... the days of apple trees, of birds and animals and humans, were coming to an end. It couldn't happen. He was sure of that. And it was himself, and Crowley, who had to stop it. Couldn't She send him a sign? And why was he so distracted by Crawly's breath, by the long length of his body?

Perhaps he should tell him. Let him know. Crawly wouldn't suspect an angel of lying, not now, not before Aziraphale himself had disillusioned himself.

"You're worried about something, aren't you?" Crawly was watching him with bright curiosity, and some sympathy, as he tossed the core into the bushes. Crawly's hand groped for his, sticky with juice, and their fingers linked together as if they had always been meant to be joined. How many opportunities had Aziraphale let slip past him, to hold this precious hand, with the long fingers and hard muscles? 

"Yes. Very worried."

"Is it my fault?" There was anxiety in the voice. "You're not supposed to have let me in, you know."

"One must have faith in ineffability," Aziraphale said vaguely. "You're just doing your job." He looked around. "Eden is much smaller than I remembered. There's a whole world out there."

"Are you _tempting_ me to break my orders and leave?" Crawly asked, raising an eyebrow, and they were both laughing. Before he could even form the thought, Aziraphale was doing what he had wanted to do a thousand times over, sliding his fingers down that sharp jaw. 

"Oh, no. You were always the tempting one, my wonderful demon," he said, and turned that thin laughing mouth to his, pressing his lips against against the lower lip, kissed him for the first time, in the dawning of the world. As he should have, the first time around.

"Mmph," said Crawly, intelligently, and kissed him back.

He had imagined this moment so often. Silly, guilty, reckless fantasies. Crowley saving him, again, and swooping him up in a powerful kiss, claiming him as a prize. Thinking he was dead, murmuring incoherent words of love against his mouth. Only a whisper of time ago, he had looked at Crowley's mouth, an inch from his own, and imagined angry powerful kisses, pent up love exploding into passion. Always, he had imagined Crowley making the first move, forcing surrounder out of him, so he couldn't feel too guilty. So this was what it really was like to kiss Crowley for the first time, Crawly's lips slightly dry and clumsy, unsure of what he was doing--did he even know what kissing was yet?--but gaining confidence, gaining fervour, pressing and pulling against his own. He had imagined Crowley would taste of smoke, of sin, but he tasted of fresh, unspoiled green apple. Aziraphale pulled away slightly and pressed little kisses onto the corners of that sweet, taunting, tantalising mouth, kissed the lids over his golden eyes Roman style--oh, how Crowley would love and hate the Romans when their time came--kissed down the sharp planes of his face, kissed his ticklish ears until he squirmed, tasted the sun-heated salt of that long lovely neck. Crawly gasped as he bit, delicately, and long demon hands clutched at the base of Aziraphale's wings.

 _I should have gone with you when you asked. I should have Fallen for you. I should have loved you right here in Eden,_ he thought. _And damned the consequences, even if I was damned myself._ He should be afraid now, he supposed, but after all, whatever consequences there were for this had already set. Armageddon was coming into place, in the far future but also now, and they had both betrayed their sides. The worst had happened, both Heaven and Hell had known about them, the world was ending, and he had lost Agnes's book and his last chance at saving everyone in the future. He couldn't possibly make it worse than he had already made it by holding Crowley at an arm's distance. The thought was freeing, made his heart beat hard and painfully against his chest. 

"Angel," Crawly groaned, and the sound of that name--a title here and now because Crawly didn't even know his name, he _knew_ that, but also an endearment he had cherished for centuries--said in that tone sent molten iron through his veins, a thousand fantasies made real. "Angel, wait. You may be a creature of love, but I'm a bloody demon. The way you eat, never seen anything like it, _this _you drive me crazy, I'm not safe to be around..."__

____

"You will love me more faithfully than I ever dared admit to myself, dear heart," Aziraphale whispered against his skin. "I'm yours." Crawly pressed hard suddenly against him at that, hot through his robes, as if his skin burned with hellfire. "I think I can afford a little lust, here in the garden." Then it was Crawly's mouth taking his, that delicious tongue pushing into his mouth. Aziraphale opened to it, welcomed him in.

____

"How could you be mine?" Crawly's voice was harsh against his skin. "'M a bloody demon, I am. I want--"

____

"Hush, my darling," Aziraphale said, laughing, because it was so absurd, he must seem to be moving inexplicably fast, he, Aziraphale, who had taken six thousand years and the end of the world for a single kiss. The laughter melted into tears and Crawly, not understanding but instinctively tender, kissed them from his face, pulled him from the log and into the soft grass and wrapped long arms and legs around him, pulling the robes from him in a frenzy of comfort and need. Aziraphale let himself be stripped. There was a fierce sense of rebellion and relief in the exposure, in letting himself be seen hardening under the eye of God for a demon, for his beloved. He hurried with eager hands to pull up Crowley's own robes, finding him even harder and dripping, wrapping his own hand around Crowley at last.

____

Crawly hissed, and the sound wrapped itself around Aziraphale's heart. "Angel, I..." Eager hands fumbled for Aziraphale in return, and they felt like Aziraphale's own hands had, and nothing like it at all, because this truly was Crowley--Crawly. It was Crawly. His beloved, whatever the name. Their hands squeezed and pulled, following instinct, and _now_ he knew what his sweet demon sounded like and looked like as he came, and he would never unknow it. He trembled and cried out and part of his mind defied Heaven to judge. 

____

No judgement came, no thunder, no Fall. Just lips pressed against his neck, as if his sounds were being swallowed fown. 

____

Afterwards, Aziraphale lay in Crawly's arms, letting himself be lazily kissed and caressed. Happiness. Had he ever felt happiness, really felt it, even in Heaven? Self-righteousness, pleasure, but never happiness, glowing through him. "So soft and warm," Crawly was murmuring. "You're so beautiful. I never thought--when I fell, I didn't think anyone--anyone would care for me--want me--and you... ngghrh." He buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder.

____

"Articulate as ever," Aziraphale said, tangling his finger in long curls. He was ridiculously happy.

____

"You're the angel that guards the Gate," Crawly said suddenly. "They warned me about you. Said you would destroy me if you caught me." They both turned their heads and looked at the flaming sword, lying on the grass, its fire dulled.

____

"If you fear me, then snatch up my sword and cut me down."

____

"You don't say that as if you're particularly worried. You need to be more careful. I _am_ a demon, you know," Crawly said sternly.

____

"Yes, yes, you're very dastardly and evil." He kissed a curl wound around his finger. "I'm terrified of you. You might kiss me and pleasure me to death Never let me escape your dastardly cuddles."

____

Crawly pouted at the affront to his dignity, and then his arms tightened around Aziraphale's waist. "Will you be in trouble for this?"

____

"No more than I already am."

____

"I'll protect you," Crawly said, suddenly and fiercely. "If Gabriel or Michael come for you, I'll keep you safe. I won't let you be hurt, I won't let them take them from me. I'll fight for you. You're _mine._ "

____

Even here, even now, his demon could make him blush. "I don't want fighting. No more wars," Aziraphale said firmly. "But you will always be my hero."

____

Crawly blushed in return. "Don't know what you're getting yourself into, promising these things to a demon," he muttered, but he was clearly pleased.

____

Time drifted by, perhaps because it wasn't exactly sure what it should do with itself just yet. But night times came, and Aziraphale, who had sternly rejected sleep for millennia because he hadn't needed it, learned what it was like to nestle against a warm body, let his worries and his thoughts drift away, fall slowly into wellbeing and oblivion. The two of them stayed invisible to the humans, lovely fascinating things that Adam and Eve were, and Aziraphale remembered his fierce joy and pride in them, in the naming of the beasts, in their passionate joy in each other. They were without shame yet, without sin, without knowledge of good and evil. Pure.

____

Aziraphale knew good and knew evil, or he thought he had, and he took Evil gladly into his arms and smothered it with kisses, and called it good. And the fall never came

____

He was happy. He _was_ happy. This Crawly knew nothing of music or history, of subterfuge and lying, of fashion. He was open-hearted still, no cunning on his fine features, just pure joy and a heart full of questions. Sometimes he would quirk an eyebrow and look askance at Aziraphale when Aziraphale forgot and mentioned something related their long history, their complicated history of friendship and rivalry, but that was just him being careless.

____

It was alright to be the cunning one now. It was alright to look into a face that was more and more beloved every day, and lie to it. It was alright to be the one taking the burden of sin and protection for once.

____

It was alright to miss his own Crowley a bit, to long to discuss theatre and music and bicker. So long as he loved _this_ Crawly with all his heart and soul, made up to him for all the times he had failed and abandoned his own Crowley, for _we're not friends_ and _it's over_. If that timeline still existed, then that Crowley had already escaped to Alpha Centauri, and would be safe. And _this_ Crawly would be happier, would have less shadows in his smile. Would never know what it was like to have his love rejected.

____

If that timeline still existed... Aziraphale cursed every time travel book he had read, and it wasn't like him to curse books. He _hadn't_ killed his Crowley, his ridiculous, cynical, fascinating friend. Crowley was right here, and Aziraphale loved him, oh how he loved him, loved him fiercely and protectively.

____

He wasn't lonely in the slightest.

____

"Eve's pregnant," he said one day, watching the wonderful curve of her belly.

____

"Hmm? Do you think she'll have an egg, or a litter?" Crawly asked, drawing a trailing fingertip over Aziraphale's own belly, painting... Not words. There was no writing. That was what clever humans had invented.

____

Would they invent it without leaving the garden? Aziraphale put the thought away. "She's a mammal. That means she... she..." He searched his memory, the clutter of thousands of years of facts and memories. "No eggs."

____

"Theplatypus lays eggs and you said it was a mammal," Crawly pointed out.

____

"It is. I think so, anyway." Aziraphale was a little unsure. Nature documentaries were centuries away. "Well. Eve will have live birth, in any case."

____

"I wonder if they will be as adorable as the other young? I like the little ones."

____

"Mm, you always did," he said fondly. Another slip. Crawly gave him a sharp, perceptive glance, but left it for then. "She'll have three young in her first birth. Triplets." A heavy weight gathered in his stomach, so that Crawly's finger on his skin was abruptly uncomfortable. Aziraphale grasped his hand and pulled it aside. "Cain, Abel and Azura." But that darkness wouldn't happen. He would contain the Sin in the Garden, wrap it in his love, protect the humans from it as he should have the first time. He would seize the chance She had given him, and they would stay in the Garden, stay safe. Crawly would never be cursed as punishment, the humans would never know hatred and jealousy, Cain would never strike down his brother because he wanted the same sister and couldn't have her. Aziraphale would save them all with love.

____

He shuddered and pushed his head onto Crawly's shoulder.

____

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Crawly asked, and there was darkness in the question. "How do you know these things, and why do you conceal it from me?"

____

"Nothing's wrong. It hasn't rained yet."

____

"Rain?"

____

"Water from the sky."

____

Crawly laughed, because it was ridiculous, the very idea, and he was so beautiful in his laughter that Aziraphale kissed him, and didn't think at all for a while, and Crawly forgot his questions for a moment in passion.

____

When Aziraphale woke, Crawly's long legs tangled with his own thicker ones, he remembered the songs Azura had invented, the way she had sung them to her younger siblings when they were frightened of the dark. Well, surely she would invent them better in the Garden? It wasn't like he was wiping away all of human creativity and development by taking a demon as his lover. It was better this way, in any case, for the humans to see no fear in the dark, only the cold purity of the stars.

____

_Eggs without salt,_ whispered his treacherous, sinful mind.

____

* * *

____

For all Aziraphale's care, Crawly's radiance dimmed a little as Eve's pregnancy progressed. There were times when his forehead was creased, and he glanced away. Was it Aziraphale's fault? Did Crawly somehow sense he was being lied to, that sometimes Aziraphale missed that other Crowley, his cynical, ancient one? Surely not. Because he loved Crawly, loved him more deeply and burningly every day.

____

At last Aziraphale gave in, and asked what the problem was.

____

"Nothing for you to worry about, angel." Crawly kicked his feet in the grass. "Work. Or rather, work I'm not doing ."

____

"Oh." He hadn't realised how firmly he had been shutting his mind to that, that Crawly wasn't there to sample fruit and learn new ways to make love to each other. 

____

"S'alright. Worth it."

____

"Worth what?"

____

Crawly shrugged a slender shoulder. Looking smaller, turned in on himself somehow. "The pits, I guess. Or the ice circles."

____

"Crawly. Crawly, you couldn't possibly..."

____

"It's worth it!" He was almost shouting. "You stupid angel, don't you think it's worth it? Never--never thought--never loved--it's worth it! It would be worth it for one fucking day with you!" His mouth crashed on Aziraphale's, and it was different, harder, more urgent, and perhaps there were tears as they came together.

____

"S'worth it," Crawly muttered into his hair afterwards. "Worth eternity in the pits. Love you, angel. Wouldn't change a thing. Wouldn't change a single thing."

____

Aziraphale rubbed his shoulders, kissed his forehead, soothed him to sleep. "I love you," he whispered into an unconscious ear. "Love every you. I always did, right from the start. I wouldn't change a thing."

____

Then he slid out from under the sleeping demon, and went to find Eve.

____

"Hullo," he said brightly.

____

"Hi. Are you an angel?" She looked at him, innocent curiosity on her beautiful face.

____

"That's right." Aziraphale smiled kindly at her. "Do you like apples?"

____

* * *

____

"What have you done? What have you _fucking_ done?" Crawly's face was wild. "You don't--you don't understand--look, it was me, all right? I did it. I was sent to cause trouble, and I did. You weren't here! We'll tell them that."

____

"I think I may have done the right thing," Aziraphale said placidly.

____

"You'll fall."

____

_No, my child, you won't,_ said a voice Aziraphale hadn't heard for a very long time. It took a moment to realise Crawly hadn't heard it as well. _But it's time to go home. Your old self deserves his body and his future back, don't you think?_

____

"We'll always find each other." He didn't feel like he was choosing his own words. "I'll find you again. You'll find me, first. But I won't remember."

____

"What do you mean, you won't remember?"

____

"I won't remember any of this. And you mustn't remind me. We can't be lovers, at least not for a long while. Be patient with me, even when I push you away, even when I deny you. Even when I annoy you."

____

"You could never be annoying. And you won't push me away. Angel, you're in terrible danger, but I'll protect you."

____

"Oh, my own, you have no idea just how irritating I can be," said Aziraphale, a little pride creeping into his voice along with the grief. "I will be frightened, and I will push you away for both our sakes, to keep us safe. But be patient. Have faith that I will always love you more than words can say, my friend, my demon, my other half, even when I don't realise it myself. And _I will find you_." He was losing his grip on this body that belonged to the other him, but he managed to pull away, clamber to his feet, spread his wings. "It's a beautiful world outside the garden, my darling serpent. Enjoy it with me. Make sure I enjoy it too"

____

As he rose up, swooping toward the gate, losing his last control, his second-last thought was the somewhat hysterical memory that he hadn't known, back in Eden, why he had felt a little sore.

____

And the last one was _Crowley, my Crowley, I will come home to you, and we will save this world for you._

____

* * *

____

The angel on the wall politely acknowledged Crawly. There was no recognition in it, no tenderness or burning. It was still him, though, with his soft chin and the creases of worry that Crawly wanted to kiss away, the soft fussy voice. His lover. His beloved.

____

Perhaps it was all a trick, he thought. This was indeed an odd angel, one that was polite to a demon, but not one that showed any inclination to kiss him. To love him. Perhaps this was a lie. Some ridiculous plan to make Crawly weak, make him vulnerable and destroy him. Give him love when he thought he was damned beyond all caring, and then snatch it away. What could be more pathetic than a demon in love with an angel? But if it was so, if it was a trick, there was no way this angel could be part of it. There was nothing cruel in him, Crawly knew it.

____

The need to speak made his throat ache, his heart. He wanted to reach out, to touch, to kiss. To hear that fussy precise voice say _I love you_ again. It was inconceivable that this was a stranger who didn't know they loved each other.

____

As the first drops on the new planet fell, Crawly ducked instinctively towards the angel, and the angel, without even thinking, stretched out his wing and sheltered him. This was, he knew with certainty, _his_ angel, even if the angel didn't know it himself. The beautiful world spread out before them, and he would do as he was asked, and enjoy it with him. It was his angel, and his angel would love him, when the time came.

____

Crowley should probably ask his name.

____


End file.
